


Great or greatest?

by penguinparity



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Humor, if you squint and look at it sideway there might be a pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 06:01:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguinparity/pseuds/penguinparity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles was pretty sure this wasn't what Derek had intended, but if everyone else was going to show the emotional maturity of a 5th grader, then so was he.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Great or greatest?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magaliiiii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magaliiiii/gifts).



> TooFrenchToFunction made me a pretty graphic, so I wrote her a fic in response.

Scott looked up in confusion when Stiles threw the piece of paper at him. His brow furrowed in confusion as he read the hastily scribbled question and took in the tickyboxes at the bottom.

“Uh, what is this?”

“It’s an informational survey. I’m polling the targeted demographic, for the sake of my sanity,” Stiles replied with a huff. He flung himself down in the plastic bucket seat next to Scott and sprawled out with a scowl.

Scott frowned mulishly. “I’m not going to be in his pack. And since when are you doing work for Derek?”

“I’m not!” Stiles exploded in annoyance. “But this is getting ridiculous. Last week, Boyd offered to teach you how to skate like a real boy. And I’m pretty sure Erica was offering to give you a pitty fuck when we ran into her over the weekend. Not to mention Isaac.” He trailed off as they both glanced over at the other werewolf. Issac was sitting hunched over his lunch a few tables away, obviously listening to their conversation. Stiles and Scott shared a knowing glance; Scott turned a little red.

“Exactly, you know what I’m talking about.”

“Ok, but why,” Scott started. Stiles impatiently cut him off.

“Because this getting ridiculous! Two weeks after you werewolf-dump Derek, suddenly his pack starts being nice to you?”

“I wouldn’t call Erica offering to make me her bitch nice exactly,” Scott replied sourly. Isaac noticeably huffed over at his own creeper table.

“Okay, how about moderately less assaulty? Jackson is the only person who’s verbally threatened to hurt me in the past week. And,” Stiles paused.

“And?”“

“Derek showed up in my room last night, like a creeping creeper who creeps.”

“He did what?” Scott demanded loudly, causing more than just Issac’s head to whip around and stare at them. Stiles shushed him immediately.

“Damnit Scott, shut up. I’m already pretty sure my dad is only one awkward walk-in away from calling Chris Hansen and To Catch A Predator.”

“How many times has he shown up in your room?” Scott replied, his scowl deepening.

“Just twice, but Dad found his bloody shirt after that time he was hiding in my room as a fugitive. And he heard us talking last night. I was barely able to convince him I had been skyping with you when he walked into my room to tell me it was past my bedtime.”

“So,” Scott paused uncertainly, staring down at the note in his hand. “He gave you this note to pass on to me?” Stiles sighed dramatically and dropped his head into his hands.

“No, of course not. But he kept asking me all these questions about you. It was so obvious, dude. So you’re going to fill out my little questionnaire and we’re going to pass it on to one of his little minions.” 

They both looked up in surprise when Isaac dropped down into the chair across from them. “I’ll take it to him.”

“Really?” Stiles asked skeptically.

“You’re not the only one tired of this,” Isaac replied with the hint of a smile. “Yesterday, he tried to tell me I needed to get a job at the Vet clinic. And we’re pretty sure he was keening at the moon last week.”

Scott stared down at the slightly crumpled paper, frowning. He looked up to find Stiles holding out a pen for him. Muttering his thanks, he reached down decisively and checked a box.


End file.
